


set this party off right

by mardia



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, Hotel Sex, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 05:26:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11593866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mardia/pseuds/mardia
Summary: When Zendaya sees the selfie that Tom posts on Instagram, of him lying shirtless in bed on his side, a hint of dark stubble on his chin as he stares moodily into the camera, the first thing that comes out of her mouth is, “Oh, holy shit.”(Unbetaed PWP.)





	set this party off right

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Bruno Mars' 24K Magic because if I'm going into this dumpster, I might as well go all the way. 
> 
> I blame...so many people for this, you don't even know.

When Zendaya sees the selfie that Tom posts on Instagram, of him lying shirtless in bed on his side, a hint of dark stubble on his chin as he stares moodily into the camera, the first thing that comes out of her mouth is, “Oh, holy shit.”

Because not three seconds after that photo is posted, even as Zendaya is hitting the like button, Tom also sends her a text that reads _I posted that selfie like you asked me to._

Holy shit, they are actually doing this for real. Holy shit. 

Zendaya immediately does a fistbump, sitting up in bed as she quickly types out, _oh trust me, I saw it. Nice._ That seems like a massive understatement, given both the photo and the flare of heat that went through what felt like her entire damn body when she _saw_ the photo, but the whole point of this...whatever they’re doing is that Zendaya is the one playing it cool, while Tom…

While Tom goes and does exactly what Zendaya asks him to do. 

Zendaya bites at her lip, and then she starts typing, quickly, not letting herself hesitate. _It’s a shame I couldn’t see your whole loner look in person._

There’s a long pause before Tom’s reply, the three dots blinking on her screen until he answers. 

_you could if you wanted._

Zendaya inhales sharply, and sits there, her hands frozen on her phone before she finally works out what she wants to say, and how she wants to deliver it. 

_I want you to come to my hotel room tonight._ There. No joking, nothing that can be misinterpreted, nothing she can take back. 

Tom’s reply is quick, and she can imagine the look on his face as he texts her, that gleam of excitement. _Then I’ll be there._

Zendaya texts back a quick _okay_ and then quickly drops her phone down on the bed, putting her face in her hands as she lets out a high-pitched noise. 

*

The entire day is a weird blur. Zendaya feels like her attention is split in two, one part of her aware of the jokes and answers she gives to the press during the endless round of interviews and television spots, constantly aware of how to look engaged and charming and _on_ , always always on for the cameras. 

The other part of her is thinking about Tom sitting next to her, exactly how much space is between their bodies, how little it would take for her to reach out and brush his leg with her fingers…

She can’t, of course, not when they’re in a room full of people, a room full of reporters and publicists and with the cameras on. But she could do it later, because Tom is going to come to her hotel room tonight and step inside and Zendaya can touch him then, she can look him right in the face and tell him to touch _her_ , guide his hands to rest at her hips and lean in close--

"Zendaya," Tom says, cutting into her train of thoughts during a lull in between interviews. "You all right?"

Zendaya comes back to herself, blinking, and then she looks over at Tom and offers a big smile. "Oh, I'm great," she promises, and Tom's eyes go a little wide, and he swallows before nodding. 

"Okay, good, that's excellent."

Zendaya has to bite at her lip to keep from grinning any wider--the camera may be off at the moment but they're still surrounded by people, the last thing they need is for a rumor to hit the internet about Zendaya and Tom flirting during interviews--even if it is true. "Yeah, I think so too," she drawls softly, and gets to see Tom go a little red beneath his camera makeup.

Zendaya makes herself sit forward again, taking a sip from her water bottle. She can do this later, she promises herself. She can do...she can do _everything_ later, if she wants to. 

And yeah, Zendaya thinks, looking at the inch of space between her leg and Tom's, she really really wants to. 

*

Zendaya deliberately makes herself pick out her plainest black tank top and sweatpants that night, nothing fancy or lacy or see-through or whatever, just her plainest, most comfortable clothes. It's a kind of armor, a way to keep herself settled in her own skin. 

And then she hears the faint knock of Tom at her door, and deliberately shakes her loose hair off her shoulders before calling out, "It's open."

Tom hesitantly steps in, wearing a gray t-shirt with the v-neck cut low and yoga pants, and man, the way his face lights up as he sees her sitting on the edge of the bed is just--it's a good look. Zendaya likes seeing it, likes knowing she's the reason it's there. "Hey," he says, his left hand tugging at the hem of his shirt in a nervous way that Zendaya can't help but find endearing. 

Not that she's going to tell Tom that. She's not _that_ sappy. 

"Hey," Zendaya echoes, sitting back on her elbows. She's watching Tom closely, close enough to notice the way his eyes get a little wider as she sprawls out on the bed, the flash of interest, of--well, desire. Because he wants her, because he wants to be here, because he wants to be following her lead. 

"So, um," Tom says, and his voice is a half-octave higher than it usually is, closer to the American accent he used for the movie, "You said you wanted me to come over?" He bites at his mouth at the end of that sentence, his lips pinker than usual, and Zendaya almost forgets what she was going to say in response. 

"Yeah, I did," she says, and if she sounds a little breathless, that's not _her_ fault, she's not the one standing there in yoga pants and a thin shirt cut down to there, showing off a truly impressive set of shoulders, the hollow of his throat, and that pink mouth-- "That was a nice picture you put up earlier, I liked it."

Tom's watching her wide-eyed at this, and he clears his throat. "Good. That's...that's good, I wanted you to."

"Yeah," Zendaya says, and then takes a breath and jumps straight in, like leaping into a pool with her eyes closed shut. "I'd also like to see you come over here. You know, if you wanted."

Tom stares at her, then slowly, oh so slowly, starts walking forward. "What, uh. What would you like to see me do?"

She's really got him. This whole flirtation's been building and building for weeks now, and Zendaya still almost can't believe it's really happening, that Tom is in her hotel room tonight, slowly approaching her bed, approaching her, with that look on his face. 

"I think," Zendaya says, and her voice is breathy now, soft in a way it never is--trust Tom to bring this out in her. "I think I want you to kiss me."

Tom's standing right in front of her now, and she can see him hesitate before he leans in, bracing himself on her knees with his arms. It could be aggressive, a way for him to take back control--but it doesn't come across that way at all, not with that nervous, almost shy look on Tom's face, how his hair is threatening to fall over his forehead, tousled and looking soft. “Do you?” Tom asks, so gentle and quiet, waiting for her to take the lead. 

Zendaya shivers, and then lets herself reach up, lets her fingers tangle in Tom’s soft brown hair, pulling just a little bit--and Tom gasps, his gaze going heavy-lidded and and Zendaya says to him, each word clear and precise, “Tom. Stop teasing, and kiss me already.”

“Oh,” Tom breathes out, and then Zendaya’s pulling him in but Tom’s not resisting at all, he’s following, and then their mouths are colliding and Zendaya abruptly can’t think or plan or do anything other than just--react. 

Tom’s mouth is soft and a little chapped, warm against hers, and Zendaya dimly hears herself make a soft noise as she presses for more, her tongue sweeping out along Tom’s lower lipi.

Tom shudders against her and she can _feel_ it, can feel the sharp little intake of breath before he lets his mouth fall open, and Zendaya groans and just kisses him harder, until heat is pooling in her belly and between her legs. 

Slowly, so slowly she’s almost not aware of it, Zendaya starts to sink back onto the bed, pulling Tom down with her, until Tom’s practically kneeling above her at an awkward angle, and Zendaya has to break the kiss to scramble up the bed, falling back against the pillows and impatiently pushing her hair off her face. 

Tom is still kneeling on the bed, frozen, staring at her. “Holy crap.”

Zendaya is already feeling very hot and flushed, but she can still feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. “What?”

“I just,” Tom says, his voice faint but his eyes are wide and eager, “I just can’t believe this is actually happening right now.”

Zendaya feels herself smiling dopily in response to this, and she moves on instinct, pulling Tom in by his shirt and pulling him down on top of her, their bodies lining up, Tom settling in between her legs, and Zendaya shudders all over because _goddamn_ , does he feel good pressed up against her like this. 

Zendaya isn't sure of how long they stay like that, tangled up in each other, her fingers in Tom's hair, Tom's mouth hot against hers, but eventually she realizes how they're rocking against each other, Zendaya grinding against Tom's thigh while Tom's erection presses against her hip, the friction blunted by their clothes but still so good that she can hear a soft whimper building in her throat. 

_I could get off like this,_ Zendaya thinks, and it's that thought that causes her to pull back, mumbling, "Wait, wait, hang on a second."

Tom stops everything immediately, his hands freezing on her hips, lifting his head to look at her worriedly, his hair a tousled mess and his face flushed. "What's wrong?"

Zendaya stares at him, at his mouth, now red and wet, at his dazed expression, only just starting to clear, and she thinks in her head, clear as a bell, _God I want to wreck you right now._

"It's fine," she says, sounding nearly as breathless and dazed as Tom does. "It's fine, it's just that this isn't how I want to get off."

The words hang there for a minute, as Tom's eyes get rounder, and he stares at her mutely before finally asking, his voice hoarse, "How, uh, how--" He swallows, before finishing in a rush, "Do you want my fingers or my mouth?"

Zendaya lets out a shaky breath, and says, "Your mouth. Please." She worries for a moment if the please is a little too dorky or whatever, but Tom just beams down at her, his face lighting up, before his expression becomes more focused, and he leans in and presses a soft kiss to the side of her jaw, and then moves down lower to her throat, the hollow between her collarbones, his soft tongue sweeping out to taste her skin. 

Zendaya lets her hands tangle in Tom's hair as he slowly starts to move down her body, his thumbs rubbing at her nipples through the thin material of her tank top, making her swear and shift her hips impatiently, and then he pushes up the hem of her top so that he can drag his mouth along her abdomen, Zendaya shivering and urging him to move, to go even lower, to--

But Tom clearly feels like being a tease, if the grin she can feel against her skin is any indication, and finally Zendaya gets too impatient, her hand tightening in Tom's hair as she says, clearly, "Tom, this is really great, but I need you to put your mouth on me now."

Technically, Tom does have his mouth on her, but from the way that Tom goes still beneath her hand, he knows what she really means. "Okay," he says against her skin, his lips brushing the delicate skin above her navel. "Yeah, I hear you."

"Good," Zendaya sighs out, her fingers carding through his soft hair, her fingernails lightly dragging across the nape of his neck. 

Tom gently, carefully, drags her sweatpants down off her hips and legs, tossing them to the floor, Zendaya shivering as the cool air hits her bare legs. Tom glances up at her, biting at his lip before gently, so very gently, dragging her cotton underwear down and off her body, and Zendaya stares blindly up at the ceiling, trying her hardest not to squirm as she feels Tom’s warm breath on her thigh. 

She almost thinks she'll have to urge Tom on again, except that Tom lets out a little exhale of breath--Zendaya can feel it on her skin--and then he's lowering his head and oh, oh _God_. 

Zendaya squeezes her eyes shut, her hand tightening in Tom's hair almost by reflex, she needs to be careful as she can't just start _pulling_ , except then Tom groans, he actually groans as she grips at his hair and starts using his mouth with even more enthusiasm, exploring and working at her clit until Zendaya is gasping for breath, staring down at the sight of him between her thighs, her hand caught in his hair--

And then Tom lifts his head, his face wet from her, and gasps out loud, his face flushed and hectic, "Oh, God, please say something, just keep talking--" 

Zendaya makes a high-pitched whimper that she will deny till her last breath that she actually made out loud, but she does it, she guides Tom's head back down and gasps out, "I will, just keep going, right there, that's--oh my God, that's exactly what I want, that's it, you're doing so good--"

It's like the filter has completely gone from her brain, wiped away entirely, but Zendaya almost can't make herself care, not when Tom's steadily driving her over the edge with his mouth, not when he's giving her exactly what she wants, not when he is--holy _fucking shit_ \--making noises like this is every bit as good for him as it is for her. 

And the pleasure just keeps spiralling, until Zendaya can't even talk anymore, can only grip Tom's hair and urge him on with the noises she's making, but Tom gets it, he's with her, he keeps on going until Zendaya finally breaks and comes, the gasp caught in her throat, every muscle in her body feeling like it's gone rigid, and she only comes back to herself in slow degrees, collapsing back against the bed, dazedly petting Tom's hair as he buries his face in her thigh as she tries and mostly fails at remembering how to make words. 

It takes her a minute to realize how tense Tom is still, until he distractedly wipes at his own face and says, his voice cracking, "Zendaya, I can't--look, just please let me get off, I can't fucking _think_ \--"

There is literally no way Zendaya can go immediately for another round, but she still shivers all over at that, at Tom being so desperate to get off and _still_ asking for her permission. "Yeah, babe," she murmurs, her voice a satisfied drawl,. "Get yourself off, I want to see it."

"Fuck," Tom swears, very quietly, and he actually does it, shimmies out of those fucking yoga pants and pulls his cock out of his boxer briefs, quickly wrapping a hand around himself and fucking his fist, head still bowed like he can't quite make himself look her in the face--

"No, come on, let me see," Zendaya murmurs before she can think twice, reaching out to tip his chin up. Tom stares up at her, his mouth still wet and shiny, eyes wide, and Zendaya traces that soft mouth, saying again, "Come on, let me see you."

"Oh my God," Tom says, his eyes fluttering shut, but he listens, he does exactly like she asks, staring right into her eyes, his expression creased from desperation and desire, until he finally comes with a gasp, spilling onto his fist and onto her bare stomach. 

"Jesus Christ," Tom mumbles as he collapses next to her on the bed. "Holy crap, that was--" He waves his other hand feebly, as if words are beyond him at this point; Zendaya knows how he feels. 

She can't help but smile as she curls into him, and even though it's the first time they've done this--although it won't be the last, not if she can help it--it already feels natural, feels right to have Tom's arm curl around her waist, Tom's hair tickling her cheek as he buries his face in her shoulder. 

"Hey Tom," Zendaya murmurs after they've both caught their breath a little, although neither one of them has bothered to move just yet. "That was...that was really good."

It feels like both a massive understatement and like she's stepping out onto a ledge, but it's still worth it for the way that Tom sighs and agrees immediately. "Yeah, I'm glad. I wanted--I wanted this to be good for you."

Zendaya smiles, hearing the echo of his texts to her just this morning. "Yeah, I know. Trust me, it was."


End file.
